Slytherin Girl

He'd explained it all to you, though, it was easier to accept than he'd anticipated, you always had a fascination with mythical creatures, and coming to terms with your new undead life was doable with time. Drac had quietly blamed Twilight for your quick acceptance, and then frowned as if he'd tasted something rancid, the look had made you laugh for the first time in days. The fine details were interesting to you. Most of the things that were popular tools for getting rid of them were just carefully crafted lies to keep them safe. Sunlight, crosses, garlic, holy water- none of it would kill them.

Not them, you remind yourself, us.

The only thing that could kill you now, truly kill you, was a spear, made of one of the rarest gems on the planet. Even if your body was destroyed, in a fire or explosion, you'd continue on as a wraith, a being without a body, forced to inhabit someone else's skin.

You didn't mind your predicament as much, he'd assured you, that with time, you'd be able to see your family again, though it concerned you that you'd be forced to watch everyone around you die.

He'd gotten your phone for you from the wreckage of the crash, but you'd been unable to look at the too bright screen, asking him to send a message to your family that you'd had a small accident and you were recovering at a nearby hospital, unable to talk to them for too long and that you'd asked someone to send this message.

They'd been obviously concerned, and when they called, Drac had answered and pretended to be your doctor, the sound of their voices had caused you to retreat into your room swiftly.

He was kind, and reassuring, and he'd been able to put them at ease and you were eternally grateful that out of all the undead out there, that he'd found you.

But right now you were irritated with him, antsy, more importantly- hungry.

It's what prompted you to open the doors to your room for the first time in days.

The sounds within the castle filled your ears, and even further outwards, till you could hear the rush of snow as it hit the leaves of the pine trees outside.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, letting the sounds overwhelm you for a moment, before focusing on one particular sound at a time.

It's then that you hear the rhythmic beating.

A heart.

The more you listen, the more you realise that there are three hearts, somewhere below you.

Your mouth waters at the thought, and then your stomach grumbles.

It couldn't hurt to leave the safety of the dark wing of the castle you were in, being led by your thirst more than anything else.

You push the door open wider, and hiss at the candles lighting the hallway.

Your eyes sting and water and you have to shut the door and stay in the dark for a moment to gather your bearings.

Maybe you would be able to navigate with your eyes closed.

You decide to give it a try, opening the door once again with your eyes closed. You can still see a bright haze through your eyelids where the candles sit, but it doesn't burn.

You smile at the realisation of your progress so far. You could adjust your hearing to be as sensitive as you wanted, listening to the beating of hearts and the moving of feet below you.

The smell of something cooking, some type of meat fills your nose and though it smells divine, your mouth doesn't water because of it.

You wander through the hallway, one hand on the wall for guidance.

You know when you're near the steps from the way the echo of your steps change to indicate a larger room, and you carefully toe down each step.

You follow the voices as they grow louder, until you're at a heavy metal door.

You can practically smell it, almost taste it, the savoury metallic substance, fresh from its source, you can't wait to pierce your teeth into skin and drink until you're full, until you can't think about another drop for a couple of hours, wondering briefly what such a delectable beating heart would taste like in your mouth.

You tug the heavy door open easily, as if it's made of nothing more than paper.

And then there are bright LED lights shining into your eyes.

Even with your eyes closed, the intensity of the beams burn your retinas until you're disoriented.

You turn away from the painful lights, but it does little to help, as the lights reflect right around the room.

Your vision is completely white, there's a loud ringing in your ear and you can't register that it's the sound of your own screams.

You're on your hands and knees, trying to navigate back into the dark, but you can't find your way out, bumping into walls and floor level furniture.

There are cold tears of distress streaming down your face, and you almost want to claw at your eyes to stop the pain.

Suddenly hands are on your skin, and though you bat them away at first, you realise they want to help, scooping you into his arms and picking you up.

A long second, and you're back in your dark room. He places you gently on your bed, but doesn't stop holding you close to his chest.

You're still sobbing, eyes still burning mercilessly, though not as badly as they were before.

When you finally realise what you were about to do, you cry harder.

The words, I'm a monster, echoes in your head, tormenting you about the atrocities you run the possibility of committing because you are hungry.

"Shhh, little one, shhh." He soothes, his hand rubbing circles into your back.

You crying turns into sniffles, the horrible burning in your eyes only turns to a mild sting. When you finally open your eyes, your vision is spotted with after-images.

"You put those lights there to keep me out." You say between sniffles, a tone of betrayal.

"A precaution, to keep them safe. They are under my protection."

"But they're food." You say petulantly, only half meaning it, but angry in the moment.

"They're people, and in exchange for my protection, they offer me their blood."

"I was hungry." You say, trying to explain.

He clicks his tongue, pushing your hair back away from your eyes.

"I know sweet girl, but you haven't come into your venom yet, and you're still learning how to bite properly. It's better for you to feed from me until you learn proper control."

You whine, burying your head into his chest. He makes you feel so safe and protected, pushes you into such an obedient and calm headspace.

"I was hungry, and you weren't here." You repeat.

You feel a kiss to your forehead, his hand stopping in the middle of your back.

"My poor, sweet girl." He empathises, and you can't help looking up into his warm eyes, a different name for him on the tip of your tongue, something you've never called someone before, but would fit perfectly to the man in front of you. You think it now, knowing you'd never grow the courage to say it out loud.

Daddy

"Are you still hungry?" He asks, unable to hear the dialogue happening in your head. You almost want to say no, curious to see if he'd insist you drink his blood, or let you starve.

But your eyes fall on his lips, and then the pale skin of his neck.

You swallow as you nod, already salivating for a taste, too hungry to play games with the gorgeous man below you.

"Words, little one."

"Yes, I'm still hungry."

A small smile graces his pink lips.

You grip the edges of his shirt, and look up at him for permission.

He nods, and you begin to unbutton his shirt with careful precision.

Your eyes fall on his rosy nipple, and you think about how he would react if you bit him there instead, over his pectoral so that you can lave at his stiff bud while you drink his blood.

You can smell your own arousal, permeating the air as you push his shirt off his shoulders, your pussy almost uncomfortably damp, but its your hunger that wins out.

As you do normally, you run the tip of your tongue carefully over the spot where his blood calls out the most. This time, you place a little kiss to the spot as your teeth elongate from your gums.

His moan vibrates his chest when your teeth pierce his skin, you let out a sound in response when his blood hits your tongue.

Your hands grip his shoulders tightly as you draw a slow mouthful of blood into your mouth. You swallow, the savoury blood, and let the hunger overtake all your other senses.

You pull back for a moment, sliding your tongue over his wounds, letting them begin to close before you're biting into him again.

His hand cups the back of your head, keeping you pressed to his throat as if you would ever be able to detach yourself from him.

"That's my good girl." He murmurs in appreciation, and when you try to adjust your hips to get more comfortable, you feel his stiff erection below you.

This time, you give an experimental roll of your hips over his clothed cock, and you're rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. His blood begins to taste sweeter, and you hum in appreciation, rutting your hips gently against his.

You want to bite him, again and again and learn the way he tastes at different points in his body. Would his wrist taste different from his neck? What about the stiff muscle of his thigh? Or the apex of his bicep?

The urge to push him onto his back overtakes you, to have him beneath you, giving you everything he has to offer, but you're concern about his reaction stops you.

You don't want him to pull away, you couldn't bear the thought of him telling you no.

When you're finally full and sated, you lick his neck for long minutes after his wounds have healed, making sure that not a drop of his blood is left behind.

"Is my bite still painful?" You ask sweetly, resting your head against his shoulder, he hasn't moved his hand from the back of your head yet.

"Not to me, but you'd hurt a human, yes, and your venom has started to slowly come in."

"My venom makes the people I bite calmer, right?"

He hums in thought for a moment.

"It makes humans calmer, yes."

You think about his wording carefully.

"Well what does it do to vampires?"

He takes in a slow breath.

"If you're feeding from a vampire, it's being done willingly, there's no need to calm a vampire. The venom does something else to vampires who bite each other."

You think you have an idea of what he's going to say next.

"Yes?" You prompt.

"It amplifies sexual arousal."

Jackpot.

"So... you-?"

"-yes little one, but don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

You're not sure what to say to him, not sure how to reassure him, and it's because you don't really know what he wants, or how he feels about you, that you're unable to decide on a course of action.

You're spared the decision when your body lets out a slow yawn, muffled by his chest.

His hand pets your hair.

"You should get some sleep, it's almost morning."

You hum in acknowledgement, pulling away from him to crawl up the bed. You keep your hand in his, pulling him along by the arm as if he's some form of oversized teddy bear.

You get under the covers, and he lies beside you, one hand on your hair giving reassuring pats.

When you finally close your eyes, you feel him move away, rising from the bed.

"Where are you going?" You ask, popping your eyes back open to look at him.

He turns back to you, and you take a long look at his nude abdomen.

"I'm letting you sleep, sweet girl, I'll see you when you wake up.

"Can you stay with me? Don't want to be alone."

He heaves out a sigh.

"Of course, sweet girl, I'll stay." He says soothingly, and you watch as he crawls back into bed beside you.

You can't resist it. You push your body closer to his, pressing your face into his chest, breathing in the scent of pine. You drag a careful finger in circles around his chest.

"Drac?" You whisper so softly, but you know he hears you.

"Yes?"

"Can I bite you here, next time?"

A beat of silence.

"Of course."

Your hand drags up to his bicep.

"What about here?"

"Sure, little one."

You hum with delight, going lower now until your fingers trace over his clothed hip bone.

"Here?"

"If you want." He confirms.

You smile, clossing your eyes blissfully.

"I want to bite you everywhere." You say finally.

You feel his cock jump in response.

It's easy to become his friend. Dracula is sweet, and kind and has some type of awkward sense of humour that makes him laugh at the strangest things. You'd sat and explained Tinder to him, and he'd laughed, and when you tilted your head in confusion, he has to explain that though times have changed, the principle behind things have remained the same, and he likes finding evidence in modern times that things never truly change.

Technology can advance how much it wants, but people will always make candles and sew quilts and paint the things they've seen, and bury their faces into some form of entertainment to ignore the people around, and look up at the stars, and make wine and kiss and love.

When he says the last thing, he doesn't meet your eye, and you know a man as old as him must have some heartbreaking story attached. You don't want to sour the mood, as you sit beside him in his snow covered garden, deciding not to pry just yet.

Though you can feel that the air is cold, it doesn't bother you, it doesn't  make you shiver, and it certainly doesn't make your breath mist.

"People have been kissing the same way for centuries." You say in deep thought. He turns to you, and you look up at him easily. Snow falls and catches on the top of his head, and some on the wiry hairs on his cheek.

The corner of his mouth lifts and you know something funny is coming.

"People have been breathing the same way for centuries too, but that's not good enough for you, hmm?"

You throw you head back and laugh at his witty remarks.

"Oh, has Count Dracula always had such a smart mouth?" You ask, gently pushing on his shoulder.

He shakes his head.

"It's just something you bring out of me."

You roll your eyes dramatically.

You sit in silence for a few moments, and when a snowflake lands on your eyelash, you carefully swipe it onto the tip of your finger.

Studying it carefully, you draw in a breath when you realise that you can see the ridges of the beautiful snowflake clearly.

It doesn't melt in your hand either, your body becoming the same temperature as the environment, complying with the zeroth law of thermodynamics.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" He says beside you, and you nod in response.

"I thought it was a curse at first. But it's not so simple, I can't say something is black or white when it all exists as shades of grey."

You press the fragile snowflake between your fingers, and you grind it into dust, studying the way the ice crystals still shimmer.

"Things change. They have to."

"But it's still a water molecule." His voice interjects, "It may always be a water molecule."

You hum in thought, letting his words sink in.

"I'm curious about something." You say suddenly, changing the topic.

He looks at you in question, his hair almost white from the snow its caught and you figure you must look the same.

"I want you to bite me." You say, "I want to know what it feels like."

He studies you for a long moment.

"Why?"

"Because I bite you a lot, and I can't remember being bitten."

He smiles, gives a little shake of his head.

"My venom is quite strong, it might consume you."

You shrug a shoulder.

"I'll be fine, I just want to know what you go through everytime I feed from you."

A smile on his face.

"Okay," he says, standing up, "come."

"Wh- Can't we just do it here?"

"No, little one, I don't like the taste of cold blood."

You smile, taking his outstretched hand and following him into the house.

He takes you into a room on his side of the castle, there's a soft bed on one side, and a pile of couches on the other side. In the middle of the room is a circular stone formation, that with the flick of a switch, sputters to life and begins to warm the room.

"Would you like some wine?" He asks, reaching for a large glass decanter, and with a nod of your head, he takes out two glasses.

"Do you live here year round?" You ask.

"Not exactly, I usually leave before winter starts, and go stay somewhere warmer, I have homes in New York and Sicily among other places."

"You like the heat."

"It's easier to blend in, no worries about being ice cold to the touch, or puffs of warm air when I breathe. Makes things simpler."

He waits till you're finished glass of wine sits beside his before getting in close you you.

"Still want to do this?" He murmurs in your ear, "I have to warn you again that the effects might be too much for you to handle."

You nod your head slowly.

"I trust you, you won't hurt me, and you won't let me hurt you."

He kisses your cheek.

"You're right, sweet girl, I promised I'd keep you safe."

He pulls you onto his lap in one swift move. Pulling your t-shirt up and over your head.

"My perfect little girl." He praises, kissing over your neck, sliding the tip of his nose over your collarbone.

You make a small hum of satisfaction, tilting your head back in bliss. His fingers come up to trace the skin of your chest, circling a spot between your collarbone and the top of your breast.

"Going to bite you right here. Is that okay sweet girl?"

You want to say it so badly, the words weigh on your tongue, and ache to slip out.

Yes, Daddy.

Instead, you nod, and give a small murmur of the affirmative.

Like you do, he runs his tongue a few times over the spot, and you wonder if that's something all vampires are wired to do.

You're looking down at him when his teeth elongate into sharp points, his eyes take on a ruby red hue for a brief moment and it may be the prettiest thing you've ever seen.

Then, he's biting into you.

And your body shudders as an orgasm immediately engulfs you.

You cry out in bliss, fingers gripping his shirt tightly to keep him close, uncaring that your nails pierce through the white garment.

Then you feel him begin to pull your blood from your body, and the thought that you're inside him just as much as he's inside you makes you groan in bliss.

He takes a page from you book, pulling away and licking the spots till they close, and then he switches to the other side, above the other breast.

You have another orgasm when he bites you the second time, and your body trembles and your pussy is dripping and you feel so empty as he drinks from you.

You arch your back. He moves one hand around your waist and the other into the back of your head to secure you in place as you try to writhe in pleasure on top of him.

He doesn't take much blood from you, pulling away a few moments later, leaving you a hazy mess on his lap.

"Fuck me." You plead, when he finally looks up at you. His eyes flash red another time.

"Breathe, little one, the bite is quite potent-"

"-Noooo." You whine, interrupting him, "I don't want to breathe I want your cock inside me."

You pull at his shirt, ripping it in two straight off his body.

"Shhhh," he tries to soothe, taking your wrist in his hands, "You're not thinking straight, breathe."

Tired of hearing him speak, you lean forward and press your lips to his. He moans into your mouth and your tongue takes advantage of the moment, slipping past his lips.

The taste of your own blood coats your tongue. You trail off his mouth, kissing down his cheek and to his neck. Your teeth elongate on instinct, and you use them to scrape his skin delicately.

"Fuck me," you beg, "Please, sir."

You're on your back in seconds, his long fingers and sharp nails piercing into your neck as he holds you in place.

"Watch your filthy language with me, baby. Little girls aren't supposed to talk like that."

"Sorry. Just need you so bad." You whimper beneath him.

"Yeah?" He asks, with a little bit of condescension in his tone, "My pretty little girl wants to get filled to the brim?"

You whine, nodding your head, the pleasure and need pushing every rational thought out of your head.

"Yes, please Daddy."

You don't realise what you've said, but it shatters all of his resolve.

"Yeah sweet girl? Gonna let Daddy make you cum on his cock? Gonna scream for Daddy?"

You writhe beneath him, uncaring that your movements cause his nails to pierce your neck.

He wastes no time tearing your remaining clothes off your body.

"I'll be more gentle next time, little one, but right now I just really need to be inside you."

You nod your head in understanding, knowing exactly how he feels.

You shred his pants too, and he laughs at your enthusiasm.

His cock rests on your thigh for a moment and you're shocked by the weight of him.

"Oh, I'm not sure you'll fit." You gasp, looking down at his solid erection.

"Shhhh," he murmurs into your ear, "How about I give you a third orgasm?" He grunts, before he's leaning down and biting into your shoulder.

The reaction is instantaneous, moaning to high heaven, your back arching off the bed, he begins pushing into you slowly.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy, please." You cry out.

When you sink your fingers into his hair, he lets out a sound of displeasure, grabbing your wrists and pinning them to either side of your head.

"Gonna get you drunk on my venom, little one, until you can't say anything other than my name."

He bites into the other side of your neck, and begins rocking into you with slow, precise moves.

You can't stop begging, you can't stop crying, you can't stop pleading, you can't stop coming.

"Wanted to fuck you from the first time you bit me. Little fledgling vampire with a taste for her sire's blood. Knowing how wet you got everytime you sank those pearly teeth into me. Knew you'd be such a perfect girl for your daddy."

He's stretching you open so much, no part of you left untouched by his cock. You try to fight his hold on your wrists, but you can't figure out why.

He kisses the curve of your shoulder, dragging his teeth along, tormenting you.

His hips pick up a merciless speed, and you swear you can feel him all the way in your throat with how deep he goes.

You can't warn him, can't tell him how good you feel, the only thing you can say, with varying levels of intensity is 'please' and 'daddy'

He knows anyway, he knows you're about to have your first of many orgasms on his cock.

He angles his hips just right and you scream as you come, at the very last second, he bites into your shoulder, extending your orgasm out for a long time.

Though you barely need air, you gasp it in anyway, sucking in as much as possible to be able to manage the unbelievable rush of pleasure.

He comes a few sloppy thrusts later, pushing his cock deep into you and filling you right up to the brim with a long moan. His eyes glow red as his orgasm takes over.

He doesn't pull out of you after, instead rolling onto his back and keeping you pinned to his front.

"Sorry," he says between breaths, "I'm a little rusty."

You let out a sound of amusement.

"You have nothing to apologise for."

He hums in acknowledgement, fingers tracing over your back.

"You're such a perfect little girl."

It doesn’t work, you try to think about escape, and the reminder of his teasing smile pops up in response.

Your hands move up, and into your hair, gripping it hard, trying to stop this burning, this heavy desire to submit to him, beg for him, come for him.

Him, him, him.

You pull on your hair harder when your mind jumps to thoughts of his cock, the way it looks as it’s slipping into you, filling every inch of you.

The reminder is so potent you almost cum from just the fucking memory.

This was it.

You were going to give in.

You stand, angry, turning to his room. He’d left you behind to have a shower while you ate breakfast, and you were going to get on your knees and beg for him the moment he stepped out.

A knock on the door stops you cold in your tracks.

You turn, wide eyed, staring at the door.

Another knock, calm and cool and perhaps a little impatient.

Do you open it? Definitely not.

You hear Billy call out to you from the bedroom.

“Can you get that for me?” he asks.

“Okay.” You murmur softly, knowing that he hears you.

You unlock the door cautiously, pulling it open.

The first thing you see is a broad chest. Tilting your head up, you find a handsome man staring back at you. His nose is slightly crooked, probably having been broken one too many times.

Instinctively, your training kicks in, you wait a few moments, eyes locked on him in a silent challenge. He doesn't breathe, his body perfectly still, making a quiet assessment of you as you do him.

“You the hunter?” He finally says, his voice deep, an air of danger wrapped around him.

“Maybe.” You finally say, taking a step back, widening the door to let him step in.

Behind him, is a very beautiful woman. She's got flowing brown hair, that makes you think of hot chocolate on a cold night.

She smiles at you, and you feel a soft shock go through your body at how stunning she really is.

She introduces herself as Maria, with a hand outstretched you reach to shake it, subtly pressing your fingers to her wrist, feeling a pulse. 

You supply your own name, wondering if this was the paired couple Billy had told you about.

Billy walks in a second later, a towel on his shoulder, while he scrubs at his hair.

You blink, looking away for a second, remembering how just moments ago you were about to crawl begging to him.

Your ears hum, you realise there’s a silent conversation happening between the two supernaturals in the room. You press your teeth together, trying not to lash out at the rudeness before knowing anything.

Billy says your name, introducing his friend, Frank to you. You can’t help sizing him up.

You definitely could not take him in a fight.

There’s power to him, just like Billy, a charge in the air around him that warns you, he would not be messed with. Where Billy might toy with you playfully, he would exterminate you if you so much as moved in a way he didn’t like.

“I asked Maria to help you find some things for the event next week, and anything else you might want.” Billy explains smoothly looking at you.

You incline your head, looking at him. Petra, the vampire at the club, had told him of a date, time and place of an auction for vampires wanting to get high quality blood from humans.

You’d initially thought it would be similar to human trafficking, but Billy had informed you, that the method of gathering humans was something more coercive in nature.

If that many humans had actually gone missing, lots of people would notice, so instead, these organisations had found shady ways to force people into debt, just so that they would benefit from it. 

Learning that, had made you wonder whether your organisation knew about it. You think if they did know, they wouldn’t stand idly by.

.

You'd been very surprised that Billy had intended for you to go with Maria alone. You'd stared at him in quiet disbelief when he'd said it, and he'd met your gaze evenly.

This had to be a test, no doubt he would be following you from afar or something waiting for you to try escaping.

But as you swipe through gauzy lingerie, the absence of feeling watched puzzles you.

Some of these pieces were really cute, you pause to examine a gauzy soft blue set covered in little hearts. You give it a frown, thinking that it wasn’t too bad.

Billy had handed you his credit card before you’d left, not even saying a word to you about it. You’d been debating the right way to use it- should you just buy as much stuff as you could? Or barely buy anything but the essentials? 

In all honesty, you doubted he even cared. An immortal like him probably had more money than he knew what to do with.

Still, you stick to the essentials, your training demanding you pick functionality over anything you might really want.

When Maria watches you touch something gently for the fifth time, she finally speaks up about it.

“That’s cute.”

You blink, glancing at her before your eyes go back to the item in question- a sparkly red keychain in the shape of a heart. It would look nice with the tiny designer bag you’d been looking at earlier, one that was definitely not functional.

Shopping like this was unfamiliar to you, to desire something and be able to have it was definitely not an experience you’d had before.

“It’s a trinket.” You respond to her, moving on to look at something else.

“It might look pretty with that bag I saw earlier. The pink one.”

You make a hum of disinterest.

“How long have you and Frank been together?” You ask instead.

She tilts her head, turning away, and you acknowledge that your question might have come off rudely.

“Seventy years in November.” She answers, and you freeze, turning to study her with a look of confusion.

She doesn’t look up at you, examining a silk bra instead.

“How is that possible?” She couldn’t be older than thirty-two.

Maria’s gaze is kind as she finally looks at you, a little bit of amusement in the corners of her eyes.

“The bond prolongs my life.” She says, her eyes darting to study a woman walking by, “There are many things shared between us.”

“Like what?” You question, intrigued.

Maria smiles, turns back to look at you.

“That’s our secret, but it’s different for each bond anyway.”

You nod, turning away, a little miffed that you hadn’t gotten a straight answer from her.

“When did you find out… about him?”

“Um, maybe a few months into knowing each other? It did happen kind of fast. Frank had a… reputation… that sort of made me a target.”

You want to ask her what type of reputation, but you don’t think she'd be very forthcoming with the details. You assume it's related to whatever Billy’s involved in.

You study the silk robes, tracing your fingers over the soft material and sighing longingly.

“And… you don't have a problem with him being…”

“Different?” She finishes for you.

You hum in affirmation, trying not to argue with the word she chose. He wasn't just different, he was dangerous, deadly, bloodthirsty. It was like having a snake in bed beside you that could take you out at any given moment if you angered it just enough.

“I've seen throughout the years more humanity in him than in actual living people.”

Your first instinct is to disagree, yet there's a hope that spins inside of you, that maybe she was right.

You exhale, shaking your head, confused about what you wanted.

You put it out of your mind for now, deciding to focus on the mission at hand, and put your feelings aside the way you were trained to do.

It works up until you step through the doors of his apartment, and your eyes meet his.

Maria happily jumps into Frank’s arms, while Billy calmly approaches you.

You place some of your bags down, reaching into your back pocket for his credit card.

“Did you get everything you wanted?”

You nod, a swollen feeling in your throat as you extend the card to him.

He glances down at it, and then back at you.

“Keep it.” He murmurs, turning away.

You pause for a second, unsure of what to do, pocketing the card so that you can leave it on his nightstand or something.

“When is the rest coming?” Billy asks.

“The rest?” You question.

Maria looks over at Billy, having overheard the question.

“That's everything.” She says to him.

He pauses, turning to look at her. You watch the exchange, feeling very confused.

“That's it?”

Maria gives him a slow nod.

He pauses, before glancing at you. You get the feeling that you're missing something important, but you can't figure out what.

You glance away, pretending to study the microwave as if it’s just said something gravely important to you while you can feel his eyes on you.

“I appreciate your help, Frank, Maria.” Billy says, and in your peripherals, you see him approach them, patting Frank on the back, and leaning in to press a kiss to Maria’s temple.

It’s an amount of affection you weren’t expecting to see, and when Frank approaches you, you stiffen automatically.

He extends a hand, and though his gesture is friendly, his eyes are warning you not to make the wrong move.

You swallow, shaking his hand, returning his firm grip with one of your own, and then he slides right past you, allowing his arguably better half to bid you goodbye as well.

Maria is much warmer, despite the cold way you treated her today, and it makes you feel like a jerk, to have kept her at arm’s length.

“Goodbye.” You say softly, and she gives you a knowing smile, before she’s out the door.

You wait a beat, because you know Frank can probably still hear any words you decide to speak.

“I feel bad,” You finally say, “I wasn’t the nicest to her today.”

“Don’t worry,” Billy murmurs, “She understands.”

Your shoulders drop, in hopes that you would get another chance to be her friend, picking up your bags and taking them in the direction of the spare bedroom.

“No.” Billy says, his voice echoing clearly through the open room.

You stop in your tracks, rolling your eyes before adjusting your course for his room instead.

He follows behind, and stands at the doorway when you drop the bags in question onto the bed.

“Why didn’t you get more?” He asks, arms crossed studying you.

You glance up at him as you tug a short summer dress out of one bag, preparing to snip the tags off and make it more comfortable to wear.

“More what? I didn't need more.” You answer, feeling defensive all of a sudden.

“Do you have a scissors?” 

“Bathroom. Top drawer. You told me you got everything you wanted. Was that true?”

“What-” You let out a frustrated breath, dropping the dress on the bed, “What does that mean?”

“I wanted you to buy anything you liked, but I get the feeling that you held back a lot.”

You walk to the attached en suite bathroom, grabbing the scissors from where he said it was.

“Because I didn't have more bags?” You pick up the dress, clipping the tags, and any extra labeling that would stick you.

“I was hoping, that you'd try to make this place more like home.”

Your breath stalls in your chest.

“Well it isn't. My home is a secluded base, with four walls and a cot that fits just me, and the water is freezing on mornings but that's better for you anyway. My bed is lumpy and old and sometimes smells like someone died on it but that’s because all the funding goes into medicine for us when we get injured. I’m not some kept woman, that you can just send out and treat nicely whenever it suits you. I’m a soldier.”

You turn away to avoid his gaze. It feels as though he can see right through you in this moment. As if you’ve been pried apart and all the things that make you tick have been exposed.

Carefully, you tug his credit card out of your pocket, placing it onto the nightstand as if it’s a bomb that is going to go off at any given moment.

“I was a soldier too.” Billy finally says.

You blink, reaching for the next dress in the bag to snip the tags off. 

He comes around the bed, gripping your shoulders to turn you to him. You let the dark material fall to your feet as he grips your chin, raising your head to his.

“I was a killing machine long before I had fangs. I would have done anything to serve my cause. You know where that got me? These scars.”

You finally focus on his words, eager to soak in any ounce of himself that he’s willing to give.

“I was captured, tortured, dumped into a shallow grave and left for dead. I clawed my way out, crawled through the forest, bleeding and broken when I was found and changed. Turns out, they knew where I was the whole time and they just didn’t care. Wouldn’t even consider a rescue mission for me and other guys that were caught.”

He shakes his head.

“They don’t care about you. They never have. You’re just another body to them, useful until you’re not and then you’re replaceable.”

You already knew this.

“The cause-”

“-Fuck the cause!” He hisses, his teeth sharpening in anger, “Can’t you see that you matter more?”

You shake your head in denial. He cups your face with both hands, walking you back until you're pressed against his bedroom wall.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. I know you’ve never heard it before so I’ll say it to you now.” His eyes are dark, so human that you almost forget.

“You mean more to me than any fucking ideology. I would give everything up for you.”

“You don’t even know me.” You challenge.

He leans in, kissing you harshly, mouth tingling at the feeling of his lips on yours.

“I know enough.”

He kisses you again, and again, moaning into your mouth, drinking your breathy sighs eagerly.

You raise a hand, hanging onto his shoulder, letting yourself surrender to this feeling… a wholeness that you can’t fathom.

“You don't know anything about me, you filthy, fanged bloodsucker.” You grunt between kisses.

He laughs into your mouth, his hand fisting a handful of your hair.

“I know you like warm blankets, and you mumble in your sleep, and what your cunt tastes like, and how wet you get for me anytime you so much as look in my direction.”

You bite down on his bottom lip in retaliation and he groans.

He spins you, the front of your body against the wall now, cheek pressed to the cold concrete, your hands pulled behind your back and held there by his hand on your wrists.

“I know that you like to stop and smell the flowers on display anytime you walk past a flower shop, and that you'd go out of your way to step on a crunchy leaf.”

“You know that cause you're a fucking stalker.” You grunt, feeling him lean in, delight spreading through you when he licks across your cheek.

He tugs at your shirt, exposing your neck, he kisses over your bite scar gently, and you shudder as bliss moves right through you, forcing your toes to curl.

“You know why you like it when I kiss you here?” He emphasizes his words by pressing his lips softly to the silvery scar in question. Your eyes roll back in your head, drawing in a breath, desperately searching for sanity.

“It's where we first connected, where you first let yourself be vulnerable for me.”

You grunt, feeling anger and desire roll inside of you.

“And when were you ever vulnerable?” You shoot back, opening your eyes to peer back at him.

He releases your wrists and you turn to face him, a smug look of satisfaction on your face for having made a decent argument.

You're taken aback a little when he pulls his shirt off, tossing it onto the bed behind him.

“Here.” He reaches for your hand, pressing it to the center of his chest.

Your eyebrows draw together, moving your hand a little to study the spot right in the center of his chest. Sure enough, there's a silvery mark, just like yours, in the shape of a star.

Where you stabbed him, you realise, back in your other apartment, when you’d pressed the stake to his chest and he’d pulled you closer. That, was his first vulnerable moment with you. 

You lean forward, wondering why you never noticed it until now, and it’s probably because you weren’t even looking, that all of his other scars, had done a good job at hiding this one.

You press your lips to it, you can feel the vibration of his long winded groan against your lips. For the first time, you not only feel like his, but he also feels like yours.

“You could have killed me then, and I might have died peacefully to escape the torment of wanting you.”

You reach up, pressing your hands to each side of his maddening face to pull him into a kiss, pressing your tongue into his mouth at the first moment you can.

Billy groans, picking you up easily, legs wrapped around his hips, walking you to the bed before he drops you into the middle, halfway on your bags.

He pulls your shirt up, and you let him, not wanting to be far from his mouth at all, the tips of your fingers tracing his scars as you feel your passion mirrored by him.

He kisses over your chest, gripping your wrists to pin them beside your head, before you know it, your hands are restrained by something else.

He’s used the scarf on the designer bag you’d bought to tie your wrists together above your head, the silk has no give, and he’s knotted the fabric so securely that there’s no hope of freeing yourself on your own.

Your jeans is unbuttoned next, tugged down your legs, and then he grips your delicate underwear with his teeth and tugs harshly until you hear it rip.

Thank god, you think, as he settles his body between your legs, his mouth leaving cool kisses on the inside of your thighs. You mewl, pressing your hips up, desperate to feel his magnificent tongue on you.

“God, you’re dripping.” He murmurs, almost too low for you to hear.

He’s careful, pressing his tongue to your clit, your breath catching in your throat as he moans against you.

You sigh his name, as he licks you, speeding up and slowing down to prolong the torment.

You can’t stop the little sounds, which only worsen when you feel him begin to slowly press a lone finger into you, the pace too slow and shallow to be of any real use.

A sob catches in your throat, trying to relax as best you could, unable to stop your hips from undulating against his fingers and tongue. 

He guides another finger into you, and you shudder, desperate to feel the bliss he’s capable of, after not having him for so long.

“Don’t come.” He orders, lips wrapping around your clit, sucking gently, before he pauses to watch you.

“I can’t-” You cry, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes with the way it stings to deny yourself. 

You can feel the mess you make, of yourself, approaching your high too slowly for your liking.

You gasp when he withdraws, body shaking as you watch him undo his belt, pushing his pants down to free his leaking cock.

He’s so thick, the reminder of what he can do with such a glorious appendage makes you clench with need.

He grips your thighs, pulling your body against his, and you gasp when he ruts his cock against your swollen bud.

“That’s it, baby, feel me.”

You nod eagerly as he lines himself up with your entrance.

You suck in a deep breath, and he smiles proudly down at you as he presses his cock in.

You’re quite loud, unintentionally so, and you maybe feel a little ashamed of sounding so desperate, but the very feeling of him pushing into you, filling you right up to the brim and holding himself there for a long, shaky moment, is enough to have you clenching around him, on the verge of orgasm.

Billy reaches for you, grips your jaw, giving you a proper shake to get your attention.

“Don’t.” He warns, his eyes are the colour of ruby gems, “Not tonight.”

You suck in a sharp breath. He wasn’t going to let you come tonight?!

You begin to wriggle in protest, he reaches down to pin your hips in place, sliding his cock out, to ease himself back in.

“You feel so good baby- fuck-” He leans in to press his mouth to yours, his tongue claiming you boldly.

“Suffer with me.” He begs against your mouth.

You’re not sure what he means, but you nod, forehead to forehead, his cock swollen and heavy inside of you, tears of want in your eyes and yet you nod like a fool when he tells you no.

You pant when he moves, barely able to control yourself, you breathe in his musky scent, letting everything about him overpower you.

He growls, delivering one harsh thrust that makes you cry out, holding himself there for long moments, making you wish he would just put you out of your misery.

You struggle, trying to tug your arms free, deciding instead to place your bound hands over his head, gripping his hair in your hands.

His hands tighten on your hips, the pain of his grip only adding to your pleasure.

He moves slowly, out of rhythm, keeping you balanced right on the edge of pleasure and torment. 

When the denial is too much, you pull his hair hard, hearing him grunt out a laugh, understanding the message you’re trying to convey.

He withdraws slowly, and you swear the emptiness will destroy you.

You pant, looking up into his dark eyes, demanding an explanation. 

He releases the hold on your hips, leaning in to kiss you softly.

He noses at your neck, and you tilt your head reflexively to give him the space he needs to feed from you.

You feel him shake his head against you, nose dragging softly.

“Please.” You whisper, wanting to feel his teeth pierce your skin.

His teeth settle on your neck, a low groan leaves him, before he bites.

He’s quick about it, your skin only starting to sting and throb when he’s two mouthfuls in.

He hums around a swallow, before withdrawing, pressing the fabric of his shirt into your wound.

“I can taste the frustration in your blood, poor thing.” He murmurs, lifting his shirt to lick at the open wounds.

“But god, you still taste so fucking good.”

.

.

You’re in one of his shirts, having raided his drawers when the duffel bag he’d given you earlier held nothing but sheer lingerie disguised as sleepwear.

Maybe you shouldn’t stay here, so instead you stand, and begin wandering around his apartment.

His bedroom is farthest from the front door, and you step out, roaming down the hallway, and stopping when you see another door.

It’s open, and you peek in to find an office that you promise yourself to explore after.

It’s the only door in the hallway, and the end of it opens up into a large area with a high ceiling. There’s his kitchen to your left, and on the opposite end of the room from where you are, is the living room area. There are no walls here, just windows that show off the glittering lights of the New York skyline at night. You wonder how he’s able to stand the sun, knowing that vampire eyes were hypersensitive to light, and that most of them avoided the sunlight. Only the very old ones, managed to walk in the sun like humans did. 

You tuck that snippet of information away for further examination.

You turn to examine the kitchen, scanning the cupboards, surprised to find regular household foods like pasta and rice, wondering if he had bought these items for you, or for other human friends of his.

Another hallway at the other end of the kitchen catches your eye, and you walk slowly, more deep in your own head than you were paying attention to the layout of his apartment.

You find the bedroom you’d first woken up in, all walls and no windows, a place that protects from the light, with its own en suite bathroom. You decide that maybe you can sleep here tonight, away from him and his wretched mouth. 

Backtracking, you look at the door for a long moment, before moving forward to examine it.

You reach for the handle, pushing down, you realise it’s locked. You sigh, eyes falling on the latched deadbolt, reaching up to open it, before trying the door handle again.

The door opens this time.

Your stomach twists.

Damn, had it really been that easy the entire time? You study the elevator just a few paces away from the door.

You don’t even think about it, closing the door and snapping the deadbolt shut.

You turn away from the door, and you gasp in fright as you see him standing just a few steps away. 

You jerk, back hitting the door as fright slams through you.

You suck in a deep breath, pressing your hand to your chest.

He’s only got a towel wrapped around his hips, his chest and shoulders still glistening with water after his shower.

You stare at each other, a silent showdown of who’s going to speak first.

Billy tilts his head, studying you intently.

“Why didn’t you leave?”

Your brain comes up with the dumbest, most obvious answer possible.

“I’m- not wearing pants.”

The corner of his mouth twitches.

“We could go get some. Would you leave then?”

“No, cause it’s three in the morning and I’m tired.”

He takes a step toward you, a teasing smile on his pretty face. Your eyes trace the lines of his scars as he draws nearer. You relax as he approaches.

“And in the morning?” 

He’s so close now, you’re eye level with his dripping wet chest.

“Maybe. If I feel like it.” You whisper, studying the scars on his chest, and then flitting your gaze up to meet his.

He takes a deep breath, bracing one hand beside your head, and then after a moment, uses his other hand to trap you in place.

Except that you don’t feel trapped, all you feel is heated want.

“What if I don’t want you to leave?” He asks, his voice stirs something inside of you, a dangerous feeling, something disastrous in the making.

“You can’t stop me.” You murmur, as his fingers touch the bottom of your chin, gently tilting your head higher.

He smiles then, all fangs and pearly whites on display.

“If only that were true.” He hums, leaning in till his lips brush yours.

You push against his biceps hard, and he moves back just enough so that you’re able to slip away from him.

“Why don’t you go kiss someone else. I’m going to bed.” You grit out, walking in the direction of the spare bedroom.

You don’t get very far, before he’s gripping your wrist tightly to keep you in place. You turn to face him, a look of calm irritation plastered on your face.

“That’s what this is about? The kiss?”

“It’s about nothing. Let me go.” You pull on your arm.

He doesn’t budge.

“You’re jealous?”

“I’m not-” You grunt as you pull on your hand again, “-You’re just pissing me off.”

“You’re the one that called me ‘sick’ and now you’re jealous cause I kissed someone?”

“I’m not fucking jealous-” You gasp as he pins your body to the kitchen counter, your body freezing in shock at the angry expression on his face.

“Don’t. Lie. To. Me.” He grits out, blinking after a second and seemingly calming in the same space of time.

He takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“Don’t forget I can hear every beat of your heart. I can smell your cunt. I already know how wet you are. Don’t think you’re capable of a lie.”

You let out an angry sigh, turning your head away from him.

“Whatever.” you say as harshly as you can.

There’s a moment of silence, where he looks at you, and you make a point not to look at him.

“Alright. I’m gonna fix this.” He says decidedly.

“I could care less- what the fuck are you-” You gasp as he picks you up easily, tossing you over his shoulder.

“Billy what the fuck! Put me the fuck down now you asshole!” You grunt, his shoulder digging near painfully into your hip. 

You kick your legs, trying to escape and after a moment you realise that it doesn’t make a difference.

If you really wanted to, you could maybe straighten your body and fight your way out of his grip, but there was an inevitability to his movements. It didn’t matter how long it took, or how difficult it was, Billy was persistent, and he would get what he wanted eventually.

So when your body lands softly on his bed, all you do is look up at him angrily.

“Stay there.” He orders, untucking the towel from his hips and dropping it to the floor. You look up to the ceiling to avoid looking at his nude form. You don't want to give him the satisfaction.

When he turns away, your eyes find him once more, studying the broad expanse of his back, all the way down to his ass.

You clench, grabbing a pillow and dropping it on top of your face to hide your desire. You try your very hardest not to remember the look of him, the feel of his body on yours, his cock-

He tugs the pillow away from your face, and you sigh in annoyance up at him.

You don’t want to look down, but your eyes have almost a mind of their own.

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion when you notice that he’s wearing a fitted pair of grey boxers on his lower half.

When your eyes meet his in confusion, he grins.

He finds his way up to you, hands sliding over your legs, up your calves and to your knees.

"Did you think we were gonna fuck, baby?" He teases, with a tilt of his head.

His hands slide up more, and you're just confused when he reaches under your shirt to tug at your panties.

"We're not fucking tonight, sweetheart, I just wanna talk to you."

Then why the fuck was he taking your panties off?

When he gets the garment off, you watch him close his eyes for a brief second, tilt his head up and take a deep breath.

He was-

"God. You smell good."

His eyes are red when they reconnect with yours.

You don't say anything- you find that you can't. You want him and he knows it.

He grips your thighs, pressing them upward so that your cunt is exposed to him fully.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, you're sure he can hear it. Open and vulnerable as you watch him look at your glistening cunt.

"Pretty. Did you know that?" 

You gulp, eyes glued to his form, admiring the look of his arms and the swell of his biceps.

"I want to taste you every day, all the time. You have no idea how hard it is to stop myself from dropping you on the first surface I can find and burying my face in your cunt."

He watches you clench around nothing, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smile.

He releases your legs, letting them drop a little and he looms in above you, pressing your body tightly to his.

Chest to chest, your bare centre pressed right up to the hardness of his clothed cock, there's no space to breathe where he doesn't exist.

He angles his head so that his lips are pressed to your ear.

"I want to lick that pretty little cunt till you pass out, and then wake you up so I can do it all over again." He whispers in your ear, your body tense and on edge from just his words.

"I want to fuck you till you beg me to stop, and even then, I'll still be giving you just one more."

You think you might be ruining the sheets below you with how aroused you were.

"Then do it." You challenge, hoping for some reprieve to the ache inside of you.

His hand moves up slowly, fingers tracing your cheek before covering your mouth firmly.

You make a muffled sound of protest, raising your hands to try and push him away. You hear a quiet laugh, before one of your hands is pinned above your head.

It doesn’t matter, whether you have one hand free or two- you would not be able to get out from under him on your own.

“My poor sweet little huntress,” He hums, your ear vibrating with his low words, “If you want me to fuck you till you cry, you’re going to have to ask nicely. Actually no- you’re going to have to beg.”

Your groan of annoyance is muffled behind his palm. There was no way you were going to beg him for anything.

You feel him smile against your neck, and then you still as you feel his teeth. 

He drags his sharp teeth gently over your neck, avoiding the spot where he bit you earlier.

“You’re so helpless under me, isn’t that nice? I can do anything I want to you, and you’d have no power to stop me.” 

To prove his point, you feel his tongue swipe over your shoulder, and then purposefully over your bite, sending brief little shivers down your spine, and then he trails his tongue up the column of your neck, and then even further, licking over your cheek as well.

Your body feels like a livewire, vibrating with sheer desire each time he touches you.

You want to grunt out so many things. That he was filthy, that he was just downright fucked up in the head.

That you wanted him to keep going.

“You like that, don’t you? You always have.” He lets out a slow sigh, “You always get so wet when you can’t fight back.”

Fuck you, you wanted to say. 

“What if we made this interesting?” He hums, raising his upper body off yours for a second to reach into his bedside drawer. 

You’re no longer fully trapped under him, and if you wanted to get out, you could. Instead, you wait curiously to see what he was going to do.

He pulls a stake out of his top drawer.

“You- just have that in there? I could have killed you this whole time?”

“Of course.” He teases pushing the drawer shut, “Now’s your chance.”

Before you can ask what he means, he’s sliding the silver stake into your hand.

What the fuck?

“Now, you can stop me if you really want.” Billy says ominously.

“That’s the most fucked up-” Before you can finish, he’s slapping his hand back over your mouth.

“Don’t care about what you have to say, baby, I’m gonna do what I want to you, and you can stop me if you feel like.”

And then, he starts tugging your shirt up, exposing your stomach.

In retrospect, you don’t have to kill him to make him stop, you could just mortally wound him. One well placed stab near the heart would be enough of a deterrent. You could slip free and be out the door in minutes.

Billy pulls your shirt up higher, exposing your breasts to the open air. Your hand tightens on the stake.

You should do it. You really should.

He groans when his tongue slides wetly over your left nipple. You shudder blissfully.

Your eyes roll back in your head, before fluttering shut. A breath of air leaves your mouth in a rush, fingers hold taut on the warming piece of silver in your hand.

One quick swipe of his tongue on your left breast, then your right. He raises his head.

“Do you want more?” Billy asks.

With your eyes still closed, you shake your head.

“Then stop me.” He says, before his lips wrap around your pebbled nipple. 

His short beard scratches along your sensitive breast, he kisses his way up to the spot below your collarbone, white hot sparks splintering over your body everywhere he touches.

You still when you feel his teeth graze your skin.

“Still want me to stop?” He checks in.

No you don’t.

“Yes.”

His teeth press into your skin.

A sharp cry spills out of you, tingles as he breaks skin, followed by a jolt of pain and then heat.

You jerk when he extracts his fangs.

Billy moans when he gets his first mouthful.

You pant, unable to understand how having him drink from you could hurt, and yet feel so blissfully good.

He takes another, and then another.

Was he going to kill you like this? Should you stop him now?

He rolls his hips, rock hard erection just bumping your clit and you gasp.

Fuck, why did every part of him have to feel so good? You could feel your arousal, slippery and messy between your thighs, begging you to give into him, if only for a moment so that he could ease your ache.

Instead, you move your hand, pressing the stake to his shoulder.

From his spot, drinking from your chest, you feel him make a sound of amusement.

You groan, disdain for him building in you, you press the weapon deeper till it breaks his skin.

He pauses, raising his head from your chest, lapping slowly at the trickling droplets of your blood before drawing back.

“Silly girl, didn’t anyone teach you how to kill a vampire?” He asks, grabbing your wrist in an iron grip, and though you try to fight his guidance, he’s too strong, pulling your hand until the stake is pressed to the centre of his chest.

“My heart is right here.” He murmurs softly, and with his hand on yours, he pulls the weapon closer, breaking skin once more.

“Stop.” You say, panic building inside of you, tugging at your hand in hopes that it can slip out from under his. You didn’t want this, you didn’t want to kill him.

You pull hard at your hand, gasping gratefully when you manage to pull away. 

You look at him, sharp breaths trying to calm yourself when you get your hand away. 

He gives you a soft smile, pulling the stake away from his chest and dropping it on the bed.

You gulp, watching the wound he’d caused heal before your eyes.

“You are,” You breathe, “Absolutely fucking crazy.”

“Maybe,” He agrees with a hum, “But at least you can admit to yourself now, that you want this too.” He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours chastely, “That maybe you actually like me.”

“Not wanting you to die is not the same as-”

“-Oh give me a fucking break.” He grunts, pulling back.

He grips your knees, and before you can figure out what he’s doing- he flips you onto your stomach.

You let out a little grunt, pushing yourself up, but suddenly pressed back down by the weight of his body covering yours.

“You’ve cum on my cock way too many times to be lying to yourself like this.” He hisses.

You turn your head, so that you can see his face in your peripherals.

"You're such an arrogant fuck." You grunt out, your rucked up shirt causing your nipples to press against the bed, the exposure of your body makes you almost quiver with delight.

He leans in, his breath against your ear as you feel his hands gripping your hips.

"Why can't you just admit to yourself that you might want me, hmm?" He hisses lowly in your ear, his breath brushing against your skin, tormenting you.

"That deep down," He continues, pressing his hand between your hips and the bed, "Somewhere in that pretty head and wet cunt," You feel his hand sliding lower, fingers touching the top of your mound, "You want me with you," He kisses your cheek, "Over you, under you, inside you." You feel him take a deep breath, his nose pressed to your neck.

"I want to lick your cunt so often that I can taste you when you're not there. Is that too much to ask for?"

Your head spins, too drunk on him to formulate words.

He makes it even harder, by slipping his hand lower, fingers meeting your wet slit.

He doesn't hesitate, fingers gliding easily down, meeting your clit and you let out a low, shuddering moan as your ache is addressed in the slightest way possible.

You tilt your hips forward, into his hand.

"Billy." You sigh, widening your legs instinctively, anything to encourage him to keep going.

“God, you’re so fucking wet.”

You mewl, nodding your head.

His finger slips gently over your clit, and your breathing pauses, you don't want to do anything that would make him stop giving you this pleasure.

He gives a firm press, and you feel your body shudder, a wave of pure bliss sinking over you.

You say his name again, shifting your body, trying to display your impatience to him.

"Ah ah ah, little girl. Where are your manners? I told you I wanted you to beg."

"Fuck you." You groan angrily.

His finger slips lower, massaging your entrance for a few moments before slipping his finger in.

You gasp, your body going lax at the feel of the pleasure building in you. It’s good. It’s so good and it’s so wrong that he makes you feel like this.

"So fucking tight." He hisses, "That cunt's begging for a stretch."

Focusing on his words are hard with the way his lone finger moves, pumping in and out of you easily, your body desperate for him.

Something goes off in your head, like a gun when he curls his finger, and touches that spot deep inside of you. It pulls a groan from the very depths of your soul. You pant, trying to keep your thinking focused with the way he’s trying to steal it.

"That's it. You like this huh? Like the way I take what I want?" He leans in till his lips are at your ear, "I like it too." You clench around his finger.

"You're a sick fuck." You groan, half your mouth muffled from where your face is pressed to the bed.

"Yeah? Am I? Do you hate me?" He pulls back, and before you can make any sound of protest, two of his fingers are sliding into you.

Fuck, you can feel your body stretching for him. He uses his other hand to grip your jaw, tilting your head up almost painfully so that your face isn’t muffled in the sheets anymore.

"Tell me you hate me." Billy whispers in your ear.

You cry, his fingers beginning to move slowly, spreading you open and forcing you to feel him, to ache for more of him.

His fingers slow when you don’t immediately answer, and you groan internally, assembling the words in your head.

“I- I,” You stutter out, tears dripping from your eyes uncontrollably and pooling around his grip on your jaw, “I h-hate you.”

“Yeah? Poor little girl. Should I stop then? Leave you alone?” He coos, voice condescending in every way possible.

“Nh-” You immediately vocalise, begging him in your head to not stop, but the words can’t seem to come out of your mouth.

He laughs in your ear, understanding what you were about to say without you having to say it. 

The pace of his fingers quicken, you hiss, arching your back, feeling your orgasm swiftly approaching. You’ve wanted him since this morning, since he pulled you onto his lap and told you that you were his.

Your body trembles, eyes rolling back in your head, on the brink of release-

-And then his fingers stop.

A cry of despair leaves your lips, and the denial in your body aches, and then hurts even more when he pulls his fingers away, withdrawing his hand from under you. His grip on your jaw loosens, until your face is pressed against the sheets once more.

You raise your head groggily, turning your body onto your side when you feel him lift himself off of you. You catch sight of him sliding his fingers, wet with your denial into his mouth.

You bite down on your bottom lip hard, on the brink of begging for him, pleading with him to make you cum, and then take you in any way he saw fit.

But that’s exactly what he wanted.

So instead, you stay still, trying not to speak, feeling the fire of denial burn through you.

You tug your shirt down, looking at him with angry eyes as he observes you.

“Are you done having your fun?” You ask bitterly.

The corner of his lip twitches.

"You know what to say if you want to cum, baby. Don't act like this isn't your choice."

You feel petulance build up inside of you, anger beyond thought.

"Go fuck yourself." You hiss, moving to slide off the bed.

He grips your hips, hauling you back, until you're on your back, looking angrily up at him.

"What's the rush, sweetness? Don't you want me to clean you up?" 

“Clean me?” You repeat in disbelief, sitting up, propping the weight of your torso onto your elbows. Your brain stalling on what that could possibly mean.

His smile is devious, the look of a man that has everything he wants and then some.

He takes his time, shouldering his body in between your thighs, his face so close to your dripping centre that you’re not sure if you have any brain cells left functional

“God.” He murmurs, his breath brushing along your mound as he takes in an unnecessary breath, his eyes immediately locking on to the messy place between your thighs, “You make me feel like the most insane person on the planet.” 

“You are the most insane person on the planet.”

He grins, lowering his head slowly, anticipation building inside of you, a simmering heat, a thrumming pulse.

“Love it when you talk dirty to me.” Is the last thing he murmurs before his lips meet your cunt.

You close your eyes, pressing your lips together, begging yourself to not make a sound. He places a gentle kiss to your slit, and then another, before you feel his lips part, and his tongue snake out.

You make a muffled groan behind your clenched teeth as he gets a taste of you.

What starts off gentle, turns slightly rougher as he lays a harsh swipe of his tongue along your pussy, a gasp leaving your lips as you feel Billy begin to slowly lick your cunt.

He’s thorough and unrelenting, his face buried between your thighs, licking at you without a care in the world.

You want to spit every degrading word you can at him, hating the way you know in the back of your head that only he has ever made you feel so good.

“Oh fuck you.” You gasp as his tongue finds your clit easily, a laugh vibrating through your nether regions as he hears you.

You give up trying to resist, reaching to grip the back of his head, hoping to urge him on.

It has the opposite effect, he raises his head, and you whine, a low, pained noise at his torment.

"I'm not clean enough yet," You argue, looking down to meet his scarlet eyes.

You look at each other for a long moment, the heat of unsaid words crackling between you.

You want to beg, you're almost on the brink of it.

"I agree." Is all he says before he lowers his head again.

"Fuck-" You gasp, your back hitting the bed as your arm refuses to support your weight for any longer. 

His tongue is too dexterous, licking at your clit, and then dipping down to your entrance. He groans, tongue catching your arousal straight from the source.

Your toes curl, blissful orgasm near, your body tingles with the anticipation of your impending release.

You moan his name, putting every ounce of desperate desire into the one word.

He pulls away right when you're on edge.

The sound that leaves you is pitiful, tears of frustration spill from your eyes as you look up at him.

"I'll give you anything if you let me come."

"You know what I want." He says, licking his lips.

"Besides that," You try to bargain, "I'll blow you again, or I'll let you bite me." 

His smile is one of amusement, it makes you feel like a child, begging for something you're not going to get.

"I think we've already established that if I wanted those things, you wouldn't stop me. Even if you could."

You frown, letting out a sharp breath, fully understanding that he would not take pity on you tonight.

"Fine, asshole, I'll do it myself." You grunt, slipping from under him and sitting up with the intention of a shower.

He grips your bicep harshly to stop you. You grit your teeth angrily, unable to look into his eyes.

"If I catch you touching that little cunt- my cunt- without permission. I'll teach what real punishment would be like."

He pulls you closer, till his lips are pressed right to your ear again, your stomach flipping at his proximity.

"I'll tie you to the bed, and edge you till you forget your name. I'll use you like my own personal fleshlight and I'll never let you cum."

You hiss angrily, nether regions throbbing at his words and you tug your arm out of his grip.

"Fuck. You." Is your only reply as you head to the bathroom for the coldest shower possible.

.

After all of that, you sleep in bed beside him.

Because you know him now a little, and you know there's no way he was letting you have your own bed.

You'd gone to sleep on opposite sides of the bed, but you'd woken up in his arms.

"Thought vampires didn't need sleep?" You ask, voice unsteady, having just woken up.

"We don't." He answers, looking down at you. 

Your eyes trace his scars, you want to touch them, ask him what happened.

"So why did you lie beside me all night?"

"Because I wanted to." He answers.

Your stomach flips, and you have to look away as you feel blood rush to your face.

"Will you tell me more about this…imprint?" You ask softly.

He makes a little sound of displeasure.

"It's not exactly an imprint- It’s like-" He lets out a low sigh.

"It sounds worse than it actually is, but- ugh- do you know what quantum entanglement is?"

"Do I look like a physicist?" You answer.

He rolls his eyes, a small smile on his face at your snark.

"As simple as I can explain, when two particles are entangled, they remain connected, regardless of distance."

"What entangles them?" You ask.

"Physical interaction, but, with people, it's a lot harder to explain because there's a lot that isn't understood. It can happen with anyone, but not everyone, and at a subconscious level, it has to be accepted by both."

"You're saying I chose this?"

"Some part of you did, yeah, some part of me too, and then, no matter how far I got from you, I could still feel you."

"Feel me?" You press, hoping for him to elaborate.

He raises a hand, his knuckles carefully brush your cheek.

"Like you were always standing in the room with me. Like I wasn't alone."

You blink, trying to figure out if you'd felt the same way. You had so many questions flying through your head and difficulty putting them into words.

“Is there any way to break it?”

You can almost feel the air go frigid between you.

“As far as I understand, nothing breaks the bond except dying.”

Great.

“And what happens if we stay together?”

“I’ve heard different things from different people.” He responds.

“Like what?” You ask, trying to think it through. You remember Ethan had mentioned that there was the prolonging of lives involved.

He closes his eyes, shakes his head.

"I don't want to tell you what I'm not sure about. I have a friend, bonded to a human, maybe you can ask them whenever."

You swallow, nodding, trying not to fret over the possibility of more vampires.

Deep in thought, you blink in surprise when you feel his thumb brush over your cheek again. You look up at him in surprise.

"I have another question, but it's very personal."

"What is it?" 

You stall for a moment, studying the look in his eyes, the dark reflectiveness of them, the way you can almost see yourself in his eyes.

"Exactly how old are you?"

It changes the sour mood, the corner of his mouth curling in amusement before he gives you a fanged grin.

"That is a personal question, and maybe I'm not comfortable with answering." He says, tapping the tip of your nose with a slender finger.

You huff.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to freak you out, and telling you my age is gonna freak you out."

Maybe he was right, maybe it was better that you didn't know.

You sigh, rolling onto your back to stare up at the ceiling. He gets closer to you, fingers tracing over your cheek and down your neck, only stopping when they reach the healing bite on your shoulder.

Experimentally, he presses his thumb against the wound. You turn your head sharply to look at him, feeling the pain swim through your body but not reacting to it.

“Ow.” You say simply.

“How bad does it hurt?” He asks quietly.

You smack his hand away, sitting up, your back to him.

“Why does it suddenly matter?” You jab, moving to dangle your feet off the side of the bed.

There’s a big silence, he doesn’t answer, and after a moment you’re forced to glance back to make sure he’s still there and hasn’t dissolved into the air because of you.

He’s looking at you, as if he somehow understands something about you that you don’t know about yourself.

“How many times have you been bitten?”

The question brings a laugh to your lips.

“Enough times that I'm used to it.”

“Does it hurt any less each time?”

You turn away, an amused and thoughtful smile rises to your face.

“Every time I get bitten, always hurts like the first time.” You say in finality, leaving the room soon after.

.

Whatever bond he was describing- you didn’t feel it. There was nothing there but a deep seated need to explore him. It was more curiosity than desire.

At least, that’s what you told yourself to feel better.

You’d showered, looking at your reflection in the fogged mirror, trying to think clearly with so much frustration in your system. In the moment, you close your eyes, and recall the first time you’d ever fucked him.

It had been frantic at first, the way he’d used his tongue on you had your body begging for more, and you honestly thought you were going to die after you’d tried to kill him.

You’d put everything into it- savouring him because you wanted to seal yourself into his memory- if he was going to kill you by the end of it.

You’d gone pliant when he'd lined himself up with your entrance, and you can still remember the way your brain spiralled in surprise at the ridiculous amount of pleasure. No one had ever made you feel like that before.

Over and over again, you’d fucked till you could barely hold yourself up, till you’d been sitting on his lap, his hands gripping your hips to do all the work because you couldn’t even lift your head from the crook of his neck.

He’d been quiet, not like the second time, or even last night, when he was so vocal, the only thing you could compare it to was sin itself.

Your lower regions pulse. You can feel the heat between your thighs, begging for him, and the pleasure he gives regardless of how annoying he was.

It’s why you grab the dress at the bottom of the duffel bag to wear, deciding that you didn’t have to beg to get what you wanted. 

It was actually a really cute dress, blue, with little printed flowers all over it. Most importantly, it was short, only coming up to mid-thigh, which meant that if you bent over, he’d see the smallest scrap of lace you’d decided to call underwear today.

If he could play games, so would you.

.

He’s making breakfast when you step into the kitchen. It kind of amuses you, that he’s only cooking for you.

“Can I help?” You ask, stepping up beside him at the stove to look down at the omelette he’d been working at.

He glances at you, looks down at the stove, before blinking to look over at you once more.

You watch his jaw stiffen, you resist the urge to bite your lip as you watch his eyes trace down your body.

Oh, what power.

“Butter.” He says, “Fridge.”

You offer him a teasing smile, before turning away.

You bend unnecessarily, feeling your skirt rise up, cool air brushing the back of your thighs. 

The butter is on the middle shelf, making your bending completely unnecessary in the first place.

He's not looking at you when you turn around. You're not even sure if he's seen your little display.

He takes the butter from you without a word, and you're very intrigued by the way he cooks, the move of his wrist to flip the omelette.

"Can you get the bread toasted for me?"

How was he doing this? Being so calm and casual with you? Seeing this side of him was so much worse for your sanity than anything else. 

"You have bread?" You ask curiously, looking around, but not able to spot any.

"Yeah, here-" He steps away from the stove to reach into one of the overhead cupboards. You glance down at the pan on the stove, to make sure nothing is burning. The deep indentations on the handle of the pan barely catches your eye, and you blink in surprise.

There were deep impressions of his fingers… caused by squeezing too hard.

Maybe he was more affected with your display than he let on.

You fight a satisfied smile, giving him a knowing look when he returns to place the bag of sliced bread into your hands.

"You bought all of this for me?" You tease, "I'm flattered."

He looks hot when he rolls his eyes.

“It’s not like I had much of a choice. I can’t let you starve.”

“Because you like me?” You pry, swaying your shoulders playfully from side to side.

He huffs, using the spatula to flip the finished omelette onto a nearby plate.

Billy doesn’t respond, simply shaking his head without looking at you.

It only urges you on, like a match, sparking as it rubs against coarse paper.

You brace your hands against his kitchen counter, stiffening your arms as you use your toes to push you into an effortless bounce, using the momentum to raise your body, sitting yourself on his counter, facing him.

He doesn’t look, simply preparing the pan for toast.

“Ah,” You tease, parting your thighs subtly, “So you don’t like me then.”

Yet still, he doesn’t respond, calmly observing the bread as it toasts, the smell of it in the air makes your mouth water a little.

But it’s not what you’re hungry for.

“Maybe you only think you like me because of how sweet my blood tastes. Maybe it’s all in your head-”

Your voice goes quiet when he finally pins you with a stern glare. 

His movements are decisive, turning the stove off, moving the pan away from the residual heat, and then turning to you.

Goddamn.

You gasp, raising a leg to back away from him while also making an attempt to push him back with your foot, but there’s nowhere for you to go, your head bumps a cupboard door, and that’s all the distraction he needs to grab your ankle.

You let out a little squeak, gasping as he pulls you forward and right up against his body, encouraging your legs to wrap around him.

You open your mouth to speak, to protest, to fight him in an unmeaningful way, but you don’t get the chance as his hand grips the back of your neck, forcing your mouth onto his.

God fucking damn.

Your eyes shut, your body relaxes, and then sings with delight as he delves his tongue past your lips.

You moan into his mouth, unable to fight it, leaning in because it feels so good to have him. 

Fuck every part of you that told you this was wrong. You wanted him and nothing would stop you.

You grip his shirt in a tight fist, leaning in, meeting his mouth with an undeniable force. He presses back, and for a moment you feel so blissfully wanted, maybe more than you’d ever been before.

Only when his hand weaves into your hair, his fist tightening to hold your head in place as he leans away, do you remember the taunting remarks that got you here.

Your scalp stings, mouth falling open to gasp in air.

His eyes are dark red, like the blood he drinks to stay alive.

He doesn’t speak, releasing your hair to support your behind as he lifts you off the counter, moving quickly with your body pressed to his.

Your vision shifts too fast for comprehension, and the next thing you can process is lying face down across the marble kitchen island.

He grips the back of your head to keep you there, warm cheek to frigid marble and you stay, refusing to move, wishing that he takes in this moment, everything that you’re willing to give.

He leans over your body, until his mouth is pressed to your ear.

“Do you ever shut up?” Billy hisses, and you have to fight a satisfied smile.

He’s not done ranting, continuing on as if he doesn’t care for your answers.

“I know you just said that to get a rise out of me, but the very idea of me only wanting your for your blood- makes me fucking sick.”

He leans in even more, taking a deep breath in the space of your neck.

“I want all of you, every single piece of you, over and over again until you’re fucking mine.”

He leans away a little.

“Is that what you wanted to hear? Hmm? When you put on this little dress and flashed that cunt at me?”

He moves away even more, and the next thing you feel is him pushing your dress up, his hand pressed securely to the small of your back so that you can’t raise your body.

He's still for a moment, and so are you, burning with anticipation, your cunt getting wetter by the second.

You gasp in surprise when you feel his nose graze the back of your thigh.

You shudder, feeling his breath along your most sensitive areas, your skin tingles as he runs his nose upward, your hands curl into fists beside your head when you feel a small puff of air against your skin.

He’s still for so long that you find your body tense with anticipation, biting down on your bottom lip hard so that you don’t beg him to just put you out of your sordid misery. 

You make a small mewling sound of surprise when you feel his tongue lick along the lace gusset of your panties. 

He tugs at the scrap of fabric, pulling it away from the tacky seam of your cunt so that he can get a better look, an uninhibited view of your desire.

You want to say his name, so badly that you can feel the resonant sound of it in the back of your throat. Instead, you repeat it in your head.

Billy, Billy, Billy, Billy…

“I can’t believe how fucking messy this cunt gets. All for me.” He says softly, as if you’re not meant to hear but you do anyway.

“Such a fucking shame that you won’t beg. The things I want to do to you, the ways I want to make you cum.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, panting hard against the kitchen counter, your inner walls fluttering, begging. 

“Fucking tease.” He breathes out, as he watches more arousal spill from between your thighs.

Billy, please-

Your gasp gets caught in your throat as his tongue licks a wet trail from your clit to your entrance.

“Fuck- didn’t mean to do that but I can’t help it.” Is all he says before his tongue starts licking you slowly.

Your eyes roll back into your head and stays there permanently for a few seconds. The flood of bliss is almost too much for your body to manage.

He grunts, his hands gripping your thighs to spread your legs further apart.

His tongue is forceful as it dances over your clit, and then, after what you assume is a moment of contemplation, you feel his tongue push its way against your entrance.

Your breathing is sharp and shallow, you reach to grip the other edge of the counter, trying to get some leverage to remain sane.

The pleasure is shallow, but your body is hypersensitive with denial, his tongue fucking into you at a reasonable pace is almost enough to have your breath stalling in your throat.

When he finally gets control of himself, his tongue slows, carefully licking you, daring your body to think about orgasm.

After a few more moments, he raises his head, and you breathe a sigh of relief, your body releasing the tension of pleasure, your hands relaxing its grip on the marble countertop.

But you should have known better than to think he was done with you, not satisfied until you know for sure that you’ve lost this interaction.

His hands on your hips, gripping them as he turns you over, pulling you up into a sitting position.

Nose to nose, you look into his eyes with a half-lidded gaze.

“Your blood is nice,” He whispers, hand raising to cup your cheek, “But it’s you I want, huntress. Don’t forget that.”

You sigh, pressing your cheek into his palm and closing your eyes.

“Say it for me. What do I want?” He asks.

You breathe out a huff, an unknown emotion squeezing your throat tightly.

“Me.” You whisper softly, eyes still shut to avoid his gaze.

He doesn’t mind, thumb caressing your cheek.

“Good girl.”

And then he’s gone- right back to toasting bread, as if nothing had ever happened.

It almost drives you insane.

.

.

.

"Planning to tickle me with that?" He taunts as you shove him further back, until your full weight is propped onto the hand pressed around his neck, your thigh pressed right between his, forcing you to straddle his leg. 

Unbelievably, you feel his hand grip your hips, holding you securely in place as if he wants you as close to him as possible.

"I can do some real damage with this." You warn, voice low and enraged, trailing the knife slowly down the column of his throat, "Don't you know dull knives hurt more?"

His lips part, his chest drops a little as if the breath in his lungs has escaped him.

"The only thing hurting me," he whispers, "Is that you're not naked."

You take the time to press the tip of the dull knife into his skin. It would take a lot more force to puncture his neck, but doing so meant you could shred his throat easily. You wonder if that would even slow him down.

Your mouth curls in disgust, pulling away from him and sliding off his body quickly. You ignore the little wet spot your cunt has left behind on his pants, still being dressed in just his shirt.

There’s a tense moment of silence, the smell of delicious chinese food in the air- he’d ordered it for you while you were asleep so that there would be food available for you not long after waking. You’d only been a few bites in when you’d asked about the last time he’d fed, and he’d revealed to you what you’d already known was true, that he’d left Ethan’s body in a dumpster, missing a heart.

“You’re sick.” You whisper, facing away from him. Ethan had been trained alongside you, saved your life just as much as you’d saved his, and Billy had killed him because he’d dared to touch you.

You feel Billy behind you now, not worrying to think about how fast he’d just moved.

You huff when you feel his hands glide over either side of your hips, fingers twitching as he holds you firm.

You try your hardest to hate it, to feel disgusted by his cold hands on you, but all you feel is flutters, in your chest, your stomach, and somewhere lower.

“From the minute I put my hands on you, I knew you were mine.” He says. You squeeze your eyes shut, mentally rejecting the words.

“I know you can feel it, the way I do when I’m not near you,” he continues, drawing closer till his voice is just in your ear, “Like there’s no air in the room, unless you’re here.”

“You’re deranged.” You gasp out, feeling his hands tighten on your hips.

“You call that boy your friend, but you forget that I saw the whole thing. You didn’t want him touching you, and he did anyway. Is that not a good enough reason to tear his heart out of his chest?”

“He touched me. Not you. It was my situation to handle.” You retort.

He’s silent for a long moment.

“You’re right. I let my anger get the best of me.”

“Thank you.”

He pulls you back suddenly, till you’re pressed against his front securely, his nose running gently against your neck, one of his hands rise to tug your shirt collar down, till his face is pressed to the scar of his bite on your shoulder.

“Don’t mishear me. I’m not saying I’m sorry. Believe it or not, but I’ve been in that position, and I guarantee you, that if it’s not you, it’s someone else.”

You feel him kiss your scar, tingles spreading over your body. You’re deep in your own thoughts, thinking about his words.

“You’ve been in that position?” You echo his words, mind fuzzy with his attention.

“Mhm,” He hums, open mouthed kisses roaming your neck, “Wasn’t as strong as you either. It’s why I’ll always stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves.”

You suck in a deep breath.

“But you’re a vampire.”

He spins you around, arms gripping your shoulder, eyebrows pulled together.

 “You’re still thinking like that?” He utters in disbelief.

“Well, you haven’t really given me anything else to work with.”

He huffs, taking your hands in his and pulling you back to the couch.

“Okay, come, let me explain.”

You follow easily, and when you try to sit beside him, he eagerly pulls you into his lap. You huff, rolling your eyes as you try not to grind your wet centre against his thigh. He watches you, as if he can hear every thought.

“Believe it or not, vampires are very much like people. There are good, and there are bad.”

When you open your mouth to voice your opinion, he grabs the back of your head quickly, pulling you into him to lay a scalding kiss against your lips. His body might be cool to the touch, but he makes you sizzle anyway.

Heavens, he kisses like sin, plump lips owning whatever parts of yourself were still unclaimed, now his fully.

“Why don’t you let me finish, and then you can ask your questions.” He suggests, forehead pressed to yours.

A smarter side of you would argue, protesting his need to feed you what was most likely a lie.

You swallow, nodding your head hesitantly, feeling your body heat up with the memory of the things he'd done to you last night.

You look away from him, trying to get your thoughts together.

"We don't have to, I can always just lay you back right here and lick you to my heart's content."

You groan, clenching around nothing, acutely aware that being this close to him is making your head spin.

"Shut up and talk, Billy." You say with a pained hint in your voice.

He raises his eyebrows, his lips pulling into a slow grin. Thankfully he doesn't comment on your contrasting words.

"Okay, so as I was saying, from a moral perspective, vampires aren't that much different compared to humans. Realistically, if we killed someone every time we fed, more people would know about us."

"That's still a parasitic existence."

"The next time you interrupt I'm going to spank you."

You groan, clenching around nothing for a second time.

He explains it to you like you're a child, carefully arguing that the creatures of the night weren't all monsters, that they were a still budding society trying to figure out the logistics of existing.

"You sound like children." You interject.

Billy doesn't hesitate to draw his hand back and slap your thigh, watching you hiss in pain, that then quietly bleeds into pleasure, to your embarrassment.

"For most of human history, the number of vampires have only been in the hundreds. Now, we might have hit only a couple of thousand. The number of people that humans have killed vastly outweighs the number of vampires that exist and you still want to accuse us? Can't you see that the way you've been taught to think about us is flawed?"

You huff.

"Why is it so important that I believe what you say?" You ask, and it earns you another loud smack to the curve of your ass. You shut your eyes for a moment to fight the urge to rut your hips on his thigh.

"I'm trying to show you who the real monsters are. The ones that hide in the shadows and pull the strings, the ones that sell their own kind to the highest bidder of ours. These are people you should be hunting, little girl, not the fledglings that want to dance in clubs and feed from unsuspecting humans."

You open your eyes, blinking at him.

"You're saying there's something bigger at play?"

His hand comes down on your other asscheek. He grins when you glare at him.

"Yes. Your organisation trained you to kill the first vampire you see, making us all out to be monsters, but it's just not that simple. I can show the real monsters if you want, and let you-"

He cuts off, and after a second, he grins at you.

You look at him quizzically.

"You're so wet, I can feel it soaking through my jeans."

A low groan of annoyance leaves you, and you raise your hips, in an attempt to get off of him.

He’s not having it, gripping your hips firmly and pulling you back onto his thigh. When you struggle, his arms wrap around you, bringing you even closer, one hand settling low on your back, and then tugging your shirt up to grip your ass tightly. He holds you in place till you find that you are unable to even move an inch.

You study him intently as heat flushes through your system, eyes tracing the scars that line his face.

His eyes are dark, decisive, your eyes flit down to his lips, the sweet curve of them making your tongue feel heavy in your mouth. The shape of his beard urging you to rub yourself against him, the memory of his mouth between your thighs coming to mind.

You let out a slow breath.

“As I was saying, I can show you the real monsters,” He says softly, the air growing charged between you, “And let you decide what you want for yourself.”

You could barely remember why you were even fighting him, the magnetism of his form was too strong for you to resist.

“I’ll think about it.” You whisper, tilting your head to the side, and leaning into him slowly.

At the very last moment before your lips touch, you pause.

“Wait.” You whisper, pulling back.

You feel his hands tighten around you.

“What?” He bites out, lips parted so you can see just the smallest hint of his fangs.

You try to ignore his snippy attitude, and resist rolling your eyes lest it get you into more trouble.

“The thing you said… about choosing mates? What’s that about?”

You watch his lips part, to take a slow breath in.

“It’s something vampires do. Sort of, like an imprint- a voluntary imprint.”

You blink at him, horror washing through your body.

“You- imprinted on me… willingly?” You try to draw away from him, and he resists your movement, hand tightening on your bare ass subtly.

It brings you back to where you are, half naked on his lap.

“Yes.” He grits out, “When I first tasted you, I claimed you as mine.” 

You fight him harder now, pushing against his chest.

“Claimed me? Don’t I get a choice?”

Billy huffs.

“You came up to me in that club- or don’t you remember?” He says, and you can see the clear anger in his features.

“You didn’t even know me!” You protest, finally getting enough leverage to wiggle out of his lap and to a stand on shaky legs.

He grits his teeth, tilting his head and watching you move away from him.

“The imprint might be voluntary, but it doesn’t work unless we’re compatible.”

“You’re sick.” You respond quickly, not even thinking.

He closes his eyes slowly, rolls his neck. You worry for a moment that his need for you has just expired. 

Would he kill you? If he didn’t get what he wanted from you?

You swallow, eyeing him steadily.

He stands, walking past you without a second glance.

“Eat. I’ll take you hunting tonight.”

“Wh- what if I want to leave?” You ask softly.

He stops at the doorway, looks down before turning his head to the side. You study the scar on his cheek.

“They’ll kill you if they catch you, just to get to me. And if they hurt you, I’ll scatter their body parts across the state.”

You gulp at the imagery.

.

It was more irritating to you that he was giving you space.

He’d gone from keeping you in his arms, to not touching you at all and it made you seethe with all the hatred you had for him.

You hadn’t left- because you knew your organisation, and you knew Billy was right. They’d try to kill you the second they found you, if only to prove a point. Especially now that you knew for sure that Ethan was dead.

You pause while applying your mascara, sucking in a deep breath. Someone had dropped off a small duffel bag of supplies for you at the door, and Billy had slid it into your hands, telling you to get ready, you’d be going out in an hour.

He’s checking his watch when you emerge from the bathroom, dressed in jeans that fit you surprisingly well and a baby pink crop top.

His eyes scour your frame, face stoic as he makes his assessment.

“Ready?” He asks.

You only nod.

.

The heat of the club was familiar to you, an abundance of bodies so close together in one small space, moving under the soft neon lights.

You’re following his large frame, trying to keep an eye on the olive shirt wrapped around his shoulders, fighting each dirty thought about him that crosses your mind.

He’d looked good, to your annoyance, and you were wondering how long it would take for him to touch you again.

The answer was not very long at all, because when the crowd gets too dense, he reaches behind, extending a hand for you to take.

His hand is rough in yours, cool to the touch, undead and owning it and you feel your heartbeat kick up at the casual way his hand grips yours.

You didn’t like him, definitely not.

You weren’t too distracted by him to notice some of the other vampires in the club. You catch them in your peripheral vision, eyeing you both up, no doubt your scent packing a metaphorical punch to anyone with an advanced sense of smell.

"Easy baby," Billy whispers into your ear, fully knowing that anyone could be listening in on your conversation, his hand smoothing over your shoulder and down to the small of your back.

"We'll have our fun soon enough." He continues, his voice in your ear sending sharp waves of want down your spine.

If he notices your response to him, he doesn't show it, simply guiding you to an open seat at a secluded booth in the club.

He'd briefed you in the car on the way here, explaining that the objective was to be invited into the back rooms where the questionable conversations happened. All he’d been hoping for, was an idea of where the location for the next big meeting might be.

“The real shady conversations don’t happen in nightclubs, they happen in the back rooms of libraries or secluded five star restaurants that cater to our specific… diet.” Billy had explained.

That had made your stomach twist into knots at the idea that there really was something worse at play, made you want to do anything possible to put a dent in it.

He sits at the booth, and like you’d discussed in the car, you sit quietly beside him, body stirring with thoughts of what he’d said he’d do next.

“I’ll put you on my lap, I need them to think you’re my pretty pet. They’ll do anything to try to convince me to share you.” 

When he pats his thigh, you do what you know he wants you to. You move slowly, crawling into his lap, straddling his hips.

It brings you face to face with him, and there’s something of a silent conversation going on between you.

Though his hands are on you, gripping your body tightly, and very inappropriately for anyone to see, there’s a distance to the expression on his face that stings.

You study his scars, his eyes closing when your noses brush.

You think about the imprint he’d confessed to. You wonder what it really meant, that maybe you weren’t at his mercy as much as you’d initially thought.

After a moment, you roll your hips against his, body igniting when you manage to feel hints of his thick erection through your layers of clothing. 

He pins you with his red eyes.

It sends ripples of pleasure through you.

You didn’t know what you wanted, not even sure if it was him, with his sharp jawline and thick hair, and the scars that sit on his face, someone’s attempt at making him less beautiful gone awry.

All you knew, that in this moment, you were searching for a higher purpose, a reason for being in your current position that wasn’t just because of him. Because what kind of person would that make you? If you genuinely enjoyed being with him after the things he’s done?

After a long moment of looking into each other’s eyes, he takes a deep breath, gripping the back of your neck to bring you closer so that his lips brush your ear.

“I can smell how wet you are. Is that all for me?”

He’d know if you were lying anyway.

“Yes,” you whisper, “I need you.”

He hums, the sound goes down, all the way to your aching clit.

“If only you’d worn a skirt,” Billy continues, “I could have had my cock inside you from the minute we sat down.”

You don’t suppress your reaction, sighing in need, clenching hard around nothing.

Although this was just a performance, you realise it’s not so hard to actually act.

You pull back a little, so you can look down at his mouth. You clench again at the memory of sitting on his face.

His fingers tighten on the back of your neck, warning you that someone is approaching, your debauched act finally prompting someone to come near.

“Pardon me,” The feminine voice says- a vampire you realise- and you resist looking over at her, “but I couldn’t help but overhear your problem, and would like to extend an invitation to our basement lounge to you.”

Billy pauses, seeming to ponder her words, you attempt to ‘encourage’ him by leaning in to place kisses on the smooth column of his neck.

You feel his hand tighten on the back of your own neck imperceptibly. 

“Private rooms?” He asks.

You both already know the answer before she says it.

“Not completely, but more private than this.” She says, no doubt pointing out the wide open area of the dancefloor where anyone could see the both of you.

“I’m not sure if I’m interested.” Billy responds, making sure he doesn’t look too eager to follow her.

You keep kissing his neck, running your tongue up to his earlobe before continuing your kisses, feeling the vibration as the woman slides in beside Billy.

You pause for a second, looking over at the woman, makeup done perfectly, brunette hair falling gracefully as she moves, before Billy turns your head away, a silent urge that as his pet, his conversation was none of your business.

He’d warned you about it before, that people would speak about you like you weren’t there and playing along was necessary. You could do that, you’d played hundreds of roles before when hunting, this was just another character.

The character you were playing right now, was an empty, aching little hole. Someone eager and willing to go along with anything her partner says as long as it made him happy and got her ache satiated at the end of the night. You’d pulled inspiration from your own life for this role.

“She smells so sweet.” The woman says, to Billy in a soft voice, “Surely you don’t want to enjoy her here out in the open where you can get interrupted.”

“And I’m sure that following you is going to have a price of its own.” Billy murmurs, and you squirm on his lap a little to give off an air of impatience.

Despite your aversion to him, you’re forced to admit to yourself that you enjoy sitting in his lap. This role of needy girl coming naturally to you, because you wanted, and you wanted and you wanted him to give.

“Honestly, I’d love a little taste.” The woman confesses.

“Hear that, pet?” Billy hums, fingers sliding into your hair to pull your head back so that your eyes meet his, “This one wants a taste. What do you think?”

You think she’d look nice with a stake buried in her chest.

You flutter your eyes, giving him the look of eager obedience.

“Whatever you want, sir.” You mumble.

Billy’s dark eyes give nothing away.

“Perhaps I can share a mouthful with you, but on my terms.” He says, and you smile as he continues to look into your eyes.

He’d also warned you that he might have to bite you at some point. He promised he wouldn’t let anyone else.

You trusted him. You could see it in his eyes, that maybe the idea of letting someone else touch you had been out of the question from the very start.

“We have a deal.” The woman says, standing easily, and waiting for Billy to follow.

You’re wobbly on your legs, too drunk on your own lust for him, the way he holds your hand, silently pulling you along.

You almost forget the real reason you were here, lost in wondering how he would take care of you later tonight if you’d let him.

On the way down, the woman introduces herself as Petra, Billy gives his name, and no one even mentions you. It makes you a little irritated, that you were being treated as that much of an object, but it didn’t really surprise you. They were vampires after all.

You don’t ask where you’re going, following easily, memorising every hallway and door, making a mental map in your head.

She guides you down a flight of stairs, so narrow that Billy’s shoulders brush the sides of either wall. At the bottom, is a short hallway that stops at an iron door. 

Three sharp knocks, and the door cracks open.

You can feel the pulse of the music, emphasised by the lighting in the room, it’s like a dull thrumming, echoing the need inside of you, much slower and more erotic than whatever is playing in the club upstairs. 

Inside is like a large cavern, the walls give off an impression of being somewhere underground, with rough rock walls and lighting fixtures jutting out.

The room is filled with secluded booths, sheer drapes to hide the bodies within, the low light accentuating the writhing figures of people dancing inside, no doubt putting on a show for their partners.

“Nice place.” Billy says, he doesn’t scan the area like you do, using senses beyond your comprehension to make his observations. He gives six squeezes to your hand- one per vampire in the room. 

Six, if you had to fight your way out, things would be a little complicated.

Billy slides into the booth easily, his fingers still laced with yours, guiding you. When he sits, you settle beside him. Almost instantly, his hands are on your hips, pulling you onto his lap, making you straddle him.

You look down, feeling a little vulnerable in this position, arousal settling warmly in the spot between your legs.

“She smells divine,” Petra hums, interrupting your debauched thoughts, sitting in the booth at a respectful distance away, “You promised me a taste.” She reminds him.

“Of course.” Billy says, but when she inches toward you, he raises his hand to stop her from moving any closer.

His hand smooths over the top of your head, your eyelids fluttering at his attempt to calm you, he grips your chin gently, tilting your head to the side.

You close your eyes, your neck tingles, your mind preparing itself for the pain of it.

There’s no fear, just acceptance. You’re almost eager, from the last time he promised he’d bite you. 

He takes a deep breath at the crook of your neck, hands wandering to your backside to keep you still.

You try to relax your body as much as possible, knowing that resistance made it hurt more.

His tongue glides over your neck, and then his fangs press against your skin.

Billy somehow manages to find a way to be gentle about it, he presses in fast, keeping steady as his fangs penetrate your neck.

Delight floods your system for a moment, sparking through your body from where his mouth is latched to your neck. You can’t help the small hum of surprise that leaves your throat. Surely, bites weren’t supposed to feel this good?

It pinches next, and then it stings. You close your eyes and breathe through it, experiencing the pain, letting it move through every cell of your body.

Then, the throbbing begins.

Your neck pulses, as if your body’s suddenly noticed that it’s been breached, and is trying to process the intrusion.

You whimper in pain when he raises his head, freeing his teeth from your skin, the most painful part in your opinion.

His mouth remains latched to your neck, you feel him take one big mouthful of your blood, and swallows. His grip tightens on your ass and you can only imagine what you taste like to him. He only pulls away after he takes a second mouthful.

You watch, peeking through your closed eyelids, as he beckons Petra closer, his fingers under her chin as he seals his mouth to hers.

Something ugly rears its head inside of you. An anger that wasn’t there before, burning as you watch their lips lock, as he shares your blood with her. 

She moans into his mouth, pressing forward, and you watch, with blood trickling from your open wound, as she glides her tongue into his mouth.

All you can feel is hate. When he finally pulls away after what felt like hours of watching them kiss, she chases his mouth, but he braces one arm on her shoulder to stop her.

You couldn’t figure out why you were so upset, it wasn’t like… like you wanted him. Right?

“I need more.” She says, leaning in, now red eyes flitting to you, and to the blood dripping slowly from your neck.

Billy keeps her at bay, glancing at you for a moment.

“Pet,” he says easily, moving his hand off your ass and fishing in his pocket for a hankerchief to present to you, “Why don’t you put some pressure on that for me.” He inclines his head at your wound.

You nod, taking the soft white material, and pressing down to stop the bleeding.

“Please,” Petra begs again, “She’s delicious, you need to bring her to an auction we’re having next week. You have no idea how much she’s worth.”

His eyes are dark when he glances at you, seemingly deep in thought.

“I really could use some more blood, I can’t feed from her all the time.”

She jumps at Billy’s admittance.

“Exactly, you could get ten bodies with the amount of cash you’d get for her.”

When she leans in further, Billy’s hand drifts to wrap itself around her throat.

You can see that she’s too taken with your blood to focus properly, her eyes are glued to your neck despite the hold Billy has her in.

“Where is this auction?” Billy hums, with a tilt of his head. When she doesn’t immediately respond, trying to fight to keep the secret for as long as possible, you entice her by pulling the piece of fabric off your wound.

You’ve long since stopped bleeding, but the cloth has enough of your blood on it to loosen her lips easily.

She speaks the time and place in a very soft breath, that not even you can hear, all you can see from the corner of your eyes are her lips moving, and after a moment, Billy nods in understanding. 

“I’ll think about it. Now leave. You promised me privacy and you’ve already had your taste.” He pushes her away, releasing the grip on her throat. 

She catches herself as she falls back, and with a sour look, she backs off, leaving you alone with each other.

Did you have to kiss her? You immediately want to ask, but with the knowledge that anyone can hear your conversation, you can only roll your eyes at him, and lean away.

You know that technically, you’re supposed to be locked into an intimate embrace with him, but you can’t bear the thought of kissing him after watching him kiss someone else.

You needed to find a way to make this believable on your own terms, and you also didn’t want to actually fuck him either. You’d had enough of being vulnerable for the night.

Without thinking too much about it, you reach for the button on his jeans. 

His hands reach to stop you, a silent exchange passing between you. He raises his eyebrows in a 'What are you doing?' type of way.

You both knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that you couldn’t very well just leave after getting the information you wanted, it would look too suspicious. Something had to be done, and this is what you’d decided on.

You bite down on your bottom lip, deep in thought, watching his eyes drift down to your mouth, and when you reach to undo his pants again, he doesn’t stop you.

You shuffle back, tugging at his jeans and working his boxers down until his cock is exposed to you.

He's almost at full mast, and his indecent exposure and the implications of that succeeds in bringing him to full hardness. 

You feel something twist inside of you, a pleasure racing through your body at just the sight of him.

You wanted to do this, for yourself as much as for him.

Shuffling back, you keep your eyes on his, slipping easily onto your knees between his parted legs.

When your knees hit the ground, you watch his eyes flash red momentarily.

There’s nothing to be said between you. You can’t convey to him that you’re only doing this because any of the alternatives mean opening up to him, and that’s the last thing you feel like doing right now.

Right now, all you want to do is take from him.

So instead, you lean forward, and wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

His cock is so fucking good you have to fight the moans that rise so easily within you.

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning forward even more, tongue roaming over his tip.

You hear a sharp intake of breath, and you reward the sound by taking him deeper.

It feels so right to have him in your mouth, heavy against your tongue, the head of his cock is smooth, and you're intrigued by the sensation.

You reach for his hand, the one that's got a death grip on the soft cushion beside your head. He releases the couch on your insistence, and you encourage his hand to grip the back of your head.

He grunts out what you think is an expletive, and you pause, raising your head to look at him.

His eyes are dark, the scars on his face look downright devilish in the low light, and you want him to use you for his pleasure, so that you don’t have to feel bad about wanting.

You can tell he’s hesitant, for the very first time you see him pause in his pursuit of you, dark eyes unsure, that is, until you begin to lick gently at his tip.

Teasing him with small touches of your tongue, you watch the darkness grow and grow in his eyes, until he finally takes control- gripping the back of your head harshly.

Your mouth falls open at the sensation, obedient to whatever he wills. You move easily as he pulls your mouth back onto his cock.

He takes it slow at first, guiding the movement of your head up and down on his cock, pushing you down a little deeper each time.

You suck a little- because for all the control he has- you’re in charge here.

“That’s a good girl.” He hums lowly, guiding your head. You hum in response.

It feels good to give him this, feel him filling your mouth so rhythmically, your cunt weeping for the attention he gives your mouth.

You push farther than his hands guide, taking him to the back of your throat. Your body isn’t prepared for the intrusion, and resists, forcing you to pull away with a gasp. 

Tears in your eyes, you look up at him in apology.

His lips are parted, licking at his bottom lip, he grips your hair harshly, and pulls your head up.

You grunt, scalp tingling for a moment as he pulls your body taut between his legs, leaning down until his lips are pressed to your ear.

“You have no fucking idea what I want to do to you, little girl.” He whispers in your ear.

You swallow, cunt squeezing around nothing.

You wanted to hate him. 

You wanted him to use you however he wanted.

You don’t say anything, and when he pulls back to look at you, you make sure he can see the fire in your eyes.

All he does is smirk, and pull your head back down to his cock.

This time, he’s rougher with his motions, guiding your head faster, till your jaw begins to ache but you refuse to give up, wanting to taste his cum, the way he tasted your blood, to have a part of him, just like he had a part of you.

His hands tighten in your hair, a warning, you suck rhythmically, using your tongue to stroke the underside of his cock.

You hear his breath catch, before he’s pushing you down on his cock. You squeeze your eyes shut as he fills your mouth with salty cum, his cock pulsing against your tongue, and you do your best to take everything he has to give.

You don’t swallow immediately, pulling your head off of his cock, you look up at him, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out to show him the evidence of his release.

His eyes flash red as he watches you swallow his cum, appreciating the salty taste of him, before opening your mouth again to show him that it’s all gone.

You breathe deeply, gazing at each other for a long moment. His hand slips from the back of your head, cups your cheek gently.

“I can smell how wet you are. Let’s go home. The things I want to do to you I can’t do here.” Billy says softly, and you nod, getting out of his way so that he can stand and tuck his cock back into his pants.

When he’s done, he extends a hand to you, which you take easily, rising to a stand.

When he leans in to kiss you, you turn your head to the side to avoid his lips, still upset at seeing him kiss another.

He pulls away, a stony expression on his face as he guides you out of the secluded booth.

You grab the handkerchief with your blood on it, tucking it into your back pocket, making sure there’s no evidence of your blood left behind.

Billy nods at Petra on his way out of the room, and you keep your eyes fixed to the floor like the pet you’re supposed to be.

.

.